


Old Friends

by Gwynne



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: It helps if you've read 'Cetaganda'., Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-25
Updated: 2011-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-15 01:47:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwynne/pseuds/Gwynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivan meets some familiar faces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Friends

Ivan was having a nightmare. Of course it involved females.

But this time he was awake – pinch, yes, awake – and the female wasn’t his mother.

He was in the middle of the Winterfair Ball at the Residence. And he was dressed, so it wasn’t the other nightmare either.

He’d just been introduced to the new Cetagandan Ambassador. Ghem-General Delans. Rumoured to be the most cold, mean and miserable man the Cetagandans had ever produced.

And his wives.

The wives were both tall, slender and incredibly beautiful. One had long, straight blonde hair that swept down to her hips. The other had red hair, in fine curls tumbling down past her waist. They were stunning.

But their incredible beauty wasn’t what stunned Ivan.

He gulped and tried to look suave, pleased, bland… anything but horrified, as his memory did an instant replay of the first time he met the two ladies. Since that ended with both of them tumbled on a very large bed, gloriously naked, and sleeping in sated bliss, the memory didn’t help at this particular moment.

He also remembered why they’d been smiling as they slept. Damn Cetagandan plots, damn Cetagandan hell-drugs that were designed to rob a gentleman of the ability to rise to the occasion. He’d never…. before or since, it’d never happened… that terrible moment when he realised that he’d been tricked, and poisoned, and… nothing… was happening where it counted…. And then he’d told them – what had he told them – some babble about a Vor lord pleasuring his lady, his ladies, several times before he…

It had taken some time, but skill and imagination had produced the desired effect.

Ivan’s fingers twitched as he tried not to shudder at the memory.

And of course after that he’d been required to repeat the performance several times during his sadly short stay on the planet. In fact, he’d been very popular indeed. With the Ghem-ladies, at least. And he really wouldn’t mind a few re-enactments. Except that now these two ladies were wived to a Ghem-General famous for his dour nature. And Gregor was in the middle of negotiating a new trade treaty with said general, and…

The two women each took a look at Ivan and gave identical moans of delight.

The General frowned, Gregor looked curious, and Miles, who’d made the introductions, almost burst with glee. Auditor or not, there was an ice bath in the smug little git’s future.

Ivan gave a dignified half-bow, “Lady Arvin-Delens, Lady Benello-Delens, it’s a….surprise…. a delightful surprise…. to see you both again.”

Gregor was in full diplomacy-mode, “I see you’ve met these ladies before, Ivan?” He managed to transmit ‘….and if you make any diplomatic problems for me right now you’ll be in charge of the laundry at Kyril Island for the rest of your career…’ without changing his expression.

Ivan turned his smile up to ‘complete innocence and goodwill to all men. And women.’ At the same time he rested his hand casually on the Auditorial shoulder, and patted it very, very gently, “Yes, Miles and I had the honour of meeting both of these ladies during our brief visit to Cetaganda some years ago. For the Empress Lisbet’s funeral.” That should help, funerals made anything sound suitably restrained.

Miles grinned “You demonstrated some of our quaint Barrayaran customs, I believe, didn’t you, Ivan?”

A deep ice bath. With sharks in it.

“We had a fulfilling cultural exchange, yes.” Why do Komarran terrorists never attack at the right moment?

The two women oozed towards him, “Perhaps we could renew our acquaintance? I so enjoyed finding out about Barrayaran customs.” From the blonde one – Arvin, if he remembered correctly.

“Yes, it’d be most rewarding, to relive old times.” The redhead – Lady Benello – could make a shopping list sound suggestive.

The General smiled, or at least he showed his teeth, “You are proud of your native customs, Lord Ivan?”

For one mad moment Ivan considered telling him that shooting Cetagandans was one of their most popular native customs. Only Gregor’s Imperial glare stopped him. His hand was clamped down hard on Miles’s shoulder now, “I believe in maintaining good relations with our galactic neighbours, General.”

Miles’s next comment turned into a muffled squeak as Ivan’s hold on his shoulder tightened to a death-grip.

Lady Arvin-Delans sighed happily, “I’m sure that we can find some time to continue our cultural education while we’re here.”

Lady Benello-Delans managed to undulate while standing still, “Education can be so stimulating.”

Ivan realised he was backed up to the wall, Miles clenched in his fist, Gregor to one side, a Cetagandan General in full war-paint on the other side, and two of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen – ever had – moving towards him like nymphomaniacal tigresses.

“I’d be honoured, ladies, but sadly my duties keep me busy.”

“There’s always balls.”

Ivan was about to check his clothing when he realised she meant…”Oh yes, my lady, but I can’t attend every social event. I have important work to do.”

“Surely your talents are wasted in some boring old office. You’d be so much better in the field.”

He’d lost track of which one was speaking, they were working as a smoothly-practiced tag team. That was also how they... no. Don’t think about that.

“Oh, you know, it’s winter right now. Too much snow in the fields.” He was babbling at random – gods, he’d be sounding like Miles in one of his manic phases soon. “As a matter of fact I – I need to discuss something with the Lord Auditor right now….”

Ivan took off, still babbling, with an auditor dangling from one hand. He didn’t stop until they were safely hidden in a small office two floors away. He dropped Miles and locked the door, then considered pushing some of the furniture in front of it, just to be sure.

Miles was rolling around on the floor, laughing too much to speak clearly. Ivan waited in dignified silence until the uncontrolled mirth died down to snorks and wheezing.

“You will pay. For this, you will pay big time.” Ivan glared at him, “It will be epic, and inescapable. And probably involving a great deal of ice.”

Miles tried to get his final giggles under control, “But Ivan, I thought you’d like to see some old friends.”

“I saw enough of them on Cetaganda. Miles, those women are insatiable.” He collapsed into a chair, “And they’re married now. To one of the most miserable, dour, sour, mean old sods to ever grace a conference table, according to Gregor. And if this affects the negotiations we’ll both be sorting socks on Kyril Island, dammit , Miles, stop laughing!”

A knock on the door startled them both into silence for a moment. They heard the tiny sound of the lock clicking over, then the door swung open. One of Gregor’s armsmen surveyed the Auditor rolling around on the floor, then turned expressionlessly to Ivan, “Lord Ivan, your presence is requested.”

Ivan gulped, “Er, by whom?” Surely Gregor didn’t want an explanation? At least, not so soon, he’d still be busy working the crowd downstairs. Ivan started to plan several different ways to explain that It Was All Miles’s Fault.

“By Ghem-General Delens, my lord. This way please.”

Ivan scooped Miles up from the floor, he’d use the little monster as a human shield if he had to.

The armsman paused, “He wishes to see you alone. He was most particular about that.”

Ivan let go. Miles hit the floor, bounced, and scrambled up again, “Uh, does the emperor…?”

“Emperor Gregor would like the treaty negotiations to go smoothly.”

Ivan tried for his usual invisibility, but it wasn’t working this evening, “What am I – a human sacrifice to the treaty gods?”

“The emperor is confident in your ability to deal successfully with the situation.”

Two ice baths. One for Miles, and one for Gregor. Sharks in both. And electric eels.

Even Miles was looking a little worried now, “But… Ivan? In a delicate situation? Maybe I should go along.”

“The general wishes to see Lord Ivan. Alone.”

“But this treaty is important. We don’t want anything to go wrong. Maybe I should at least wait nearby. I’m a trained hostage negotiator.”

“HOSTAGE?” Ivan looked back at his cousin. Somehow the armsman had eased Ivan out of the room and along the corridor. “Hostage? Miles, I don’t like this.”

“It’ll be ok, I’m sure.” Miles smiled reassuringly, “After all, he’s retired. And he’s not armed. Just stay more than arm’s length away from him. And don’t turn your back on him. Oh, and try not to inhale, in case of poisons. And don’t let anything touch your skin.”

Ivan whimpered quietly as the armsman hustled him along.

The Ghem-General was waiting in one of the small withdrawing-rooms near the main ballroom. Ivan often enjoyed pleasant interludes in those rooms, with a succession of compliant widows, bored wives, and adventurous young ladies. He’d heard that some people used the rooms for secret meetings and political negotiations, well, to each their own.

The armsman didn’t exactly push Ivan into the room, but he certainly gave a helpful nudge.

The general nodded towards the door, “Lock it.”

The quiet click of the lock sounded like a death-knell. Ivan sidled along the wall, trying to stay as far from the general as possible.

“You knew my wives.”

“Er, yes, I was introduced to them at a party, by Lord Yennaro.”

“You knew them several times. You knew them carnally.”

“Carn- oh. Um. Well…”

“You used them. Freely. You indulged yourself in bed with them.”

“Uh… not always in beds…”

“You pleasured them, you disported yourself with them. You seduced and corrupted them.”

“I wouldn’t put it quite…”

“Lord Ivan. I have a right to demand…”

“Look, we don’t duel any more….”

“I have a right to demand to …”

Ivan’s shoulders were practically burrowed into the wallpaper. “Look, I didn’t …”

“Lord Ivan! I’m quite determined on this. I demand to know…” The general paused for a moment, “How did you do it?”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%

The new Cetagandan treaty was concluded, to the satisfaction of both sides, in record time.

In fact, the general said he’d never been more satisfied.

And for Ivan, the best part of all was that he refused to tell anyone what went on in that room, claiming diplomatic immunity.

And he got to watch Miles go crazy with curiosity.


End file.
